


Misunderstandings

by SBK



Category: Daiya no Ace, ace of diamond
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst, BUT ALSO HAPPY, Feels, Frustration, Good End, Hurt, M/M, Mentions of Death, Miyuki has a lot of pent up fears, Sad, Slow Burn, anger issues, but sad, how many times should I type sad, possessive nature’s, theres also tooth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:07:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25545631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBK/pseuds/SBK
Summary: Miyuki Kazuya does not like to be ignored.
Relationships: Misawa - Relationship, Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, implied, kuramochi Youichi/Ryousuke Kominato
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	Misunderstandings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PandaRae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaRae/gifts).



It must’ve started a good week or so ago, Eijun thinks to himself, staring at the phone pressed into his fingers. Kuramochi got on his case for having such an outdated flip phone, that finally under nothing more than pure pressure, bought himself a “nicer” one with the allotted allowance that the Seidou baseball students’ were provided. His background was a baseball field, his lockscreen a baseball. Aside from just the essential apps and the apps the phone came with, he definitely had a reader downloaded for Shoujo manga - though he’d never profess this outloud, and it would only come to light when Kuramochi wrestled the phone from his fingers - ignoring his demands. 

To be quite frank, Eijun was somewhat tired of trying to vie for Miyuki’s attention, though he supposed he wasn’t really vying, in retrospect, it wasn’t like Furuya was much of a forward person - although definitely competition on the mound, when it came outside of baseball, the polar bear closed himself off and chose to sleep. To be frank, Furuya had no desire to talk to Miyuki aside from the very thing that brought them all there in the first place - baseball. Yet, outside of baseball, Miyuki always seemed too busy to bother with the southpaw, and the aching sensation in his chest already confirmed it - Miyuki didn’t feel the same way, and that made Eijun feel like he was drowning. 

Eijun wasn’t used to feeling so down all the time on top of that, he often found himself getting chills as fear settled into his bones, goosebumps that would ride on his spine, and he found himself getting choked up before he could even speak - what if Miyuki Kazuya forgot about him altogether? Eijun wasn’t keen on ignoring anyone, he usually was too rambunctious to sort out his own feelings, and chose to just ignore anything not baseball related - aside from the shoujo manga he borrowed from his fellow classmates. He would admit, he was getting tired of being ignored all the time - placed on the back burner. He isn’t sure why it bothered him so much. 

Why it bugged him to his core when Miyuki didn’t say good morning, or hello when they saw each other, why it drove him mad when Miyuki didn’t even bother responding to Eijun’s texts half the time - why? Was he such a bother that the other didn’t feel comfortable enough talking to him? Eijun found his thoughts were consumptive, intrusive, and often in the way of his practice. Anytime he’d throw a pitch, he’d think of a million reasons why he wasn’t good enough to receive the attention of Miyuki Kazuya. 

Eijun presumed this is what cessation felt like, he felt it in the way his upper body tensed and tightened, the way his throat felt full of sandpaper. It made him want to vociferate into the universe, it made his body wrack up and down when no one was looking, he wanted to scream and cry and punch and kick - but at the same time he had a face to upkeep. He had to smile, he had to preserve - he had to keep fighting, because all he had was baseball and all baseball had was him - that’s the way he looked at it in his mind. The fear of abandonment bubbling in his chest was drowned with every successful pitch thrown against yellow mitts - and perhaps this might’ve worked for a while, a long while, ignoring Miyuki in return, only offering a shrug at the catcher’s inquisitions, brushing the other off whenever he tried to talk to him - this would only result in a somewhat grumpier Miyuki, and the rest of the team did not appreciate being on the sudden receiving end of his chide remarks - simply because the person he  _ usually  _ verbally assaulted seemingly brushed him off, and had no desire to even react - this would drive Miyuki Kazuya up the goddamn wall. 

Winter break had just begun, and it was rare that the students’ of Seidou got it off, let alone didn’t have to go to a training camp to make sure they were competitive enough, but alas for the first time in a long time - in all of Miyuki Kazuya’s life, anyway, snow cascaded from the skies and painted the ground in sparkly white. Denying the baseball maniacs their staple, their footing, and forcing them to confront things they never thought they’d have to - what life would be like without their most distracting force, baseball. 

The winter was inhospitable, the way it would bite at any exposed skin was uncomfortable. Eijun was grateful to be aboard a train that would take him back to Nagano, apparently the snow hadn’t hit so hard there, and that it would be only slightly chilly - much better compared to the current dissatisfaction of the icy winds of Tokyo. Unfortunately, the train ride left a lot of room for Eijun to daydream about Miyuki, and their current, rocky relationship. 

Miyuki Kazuya would and always would be defined as haughty and conceited, but the reality was he just had high, towering guards that none could pierce. Eijun had learned this, when they’d lost a game, and Kazuya was trudging behind the rest of them sluggishly, not wanting to admit he was crying, but alas, big, fat tears would cascade down his cheeks, an assault not welcome, but Miyuki was unable to deny it. The rest of the team was shocked to see it, the way he wailed into his hands at the back of the bus, sniffling and shoulders shaking up and down -

Eijun too cried much like a baby without a pacifier in that instant, unable to bite back the sticky sensation that would coat his eyes, the way the salt burned them - the way he wanted to kick the shit out of himself for messing up that pitch. Maybe he wanted to kick himself for losing, maybe it was because he couldn’t entirely handle the sobbing of Miyuki Kazuya. The captain and catcher who had it all together, who always seemed so arrogant, who always seemed to know it all - the careful tactation of the team, the one who could shoulder so much, and he failed to keep up appearances, because after all, he too felt emotion - he too, was just a normal highschooler. 

Eijun though, despite that, could not drop the aching of his chest. Miyuki simply did not care for the pitcher as much as the pitcher cared for him. Eijun would try his hardest to get the four eyed bastard’s attention, which would simply be a task too great for just anyone to conquer, and unbeknownst to only Eijun, Miyuki actually would respond the best way he could. Miyuki was usually reserved and laid back, but when it came to the golden eyed beast that was Sawamura Eijun, the catcher slightly cracked. Miyuki cracked more jokes with Sawamura than anyone else, Miyuki would only get after Sawamura for running too much, or for pitching too hard, Miyuki noticed tons of tiny things that not even Eijun himself realized - but the tunaki was constipated emotionally, unable to bring himself to admit these things, not even in writing. Eijun was dense too, none the wiser of these things, things that people like Haruichi and Kuramochi would realize, their observing eyes digging deep into the lives of their teammates and friends. Haruichi would muse at his own actions, realizing maybe the real reason he cut his bangs off was so that he could keep a better watch of Sawamura. Kuramochi thinks the same thing about Haruichi, but it's never been discussed out loud before. 

Eijun though, was very bad at picking up signals and reading the mood of situations - his energy was just too much, he was valourous in everything he did, from shouting on the mound and launching a pointed index finger into the sky, which would only rile up his teammates on the field, to when the mood in the cafetiera was particularly serious, and Sawamura would assault none other than Miyuki Kazuya. Eijun was like the sun, bright and not always welcome, but when it was gone, boy did you feel cold. 

Eijun, at times, didn’t even know his own impact on the team. Or his catcher. 

Bust most of all, Eijun felt it in the way his chest melted, he knew he had feelings for his catcher, and that within itself was a bad thing, for sure. Should those feelings bubble to the forefront of their reality, so much could be lost. Their battery could be skewed, their relationship could be awkward, and their chances in the pro leagues could dip negatively simply because of a mutual attraction. Well, now Eijun was getting ahead of himself, there’s no way it could be a mutual attraction all things considered, Eijun was just a stepping stone for sure, Miyuki was using him to win the games, and that’s why he indulged in Sawamura so much - that was the southpaw’s theory, anyway. Yet, he still couldn’t help himself, the way his chest constricted like a snake was squeezing him on the inside - he couldn’t help himself. 

Eijun 10:14 pm: 

Four eyes Oo u oO <\- this is you. 

Eijun laughed snidely at his own text message, as if it was beyond morally cruel, as if Sawamura was made out of  _ pure negative disastrous  _ energy. In reality, when Miyuki would receive such a text, he’d simply make a face and tuck his phone back into his pocket. See, the unknown thing about the catcher was, he failed in a lot of ways. He had a lot of shortcomings, one of them being the ability to respond to texts. He was a horrendous texter, and often took a while to respond, even if he was on his phone. 

Miyuki had zero idea of the impact this had on Sawamura Eijun. How it would chip away at his heart, how Sawmaura was just far too sensitive for a world far too harsh. 

To put it in simpler terms, Sawamura Eijun felt abandoned. 

\---

Kazuya messed his hair up with his hands pressed into a towel, sending it into a disarray of fluff. Droplets would slide down his forehead to his chin, or cheek, Kazuya found it hard to be alone in silence these days - he didn’t go home for winter, he didn’t really have much of a home to return to anyway - not since his mom got in that accident. Besides, this was where he belonged, on a field owned by nothing but baseball, on a school that was nothing about baseball. Perhaps Kazuya was a lot like his father in his own regard, pouring himself into a sport so he didn’t have to face reality - his reality was a lot lonelier than he liked to confess. Well, until a certain someone showed up. Radiant was Sawamura, gleaming with so much potential, it made Kazuya excited in a way he wasn’t sure how to word. 

Sometimes, when Kazuya would simply provide just a loose end compliment, genuine, the boy would light up like a puppy hearing the word  _ treat?  _ Though Sawamura tended to ride it a little too long that would make him seem a little too prideful, so Kazuya would have to take it back slightly by saying something backhanded like -  _ for you, anyway.  _ Watching the boy deflate like a balloon and create a fuss was mayhaps Kazuya’s favorite part about the pitcher. So expressive, so delicate. He would click his tongue under his breath,  _ tch.  _

Kazuya felt it too, tenderly in his chest at this sudden and foreign feeling, yet reminiscent and familiar, it reminded him of his mother, when he learned that she in fact, would not be coming to future practices to get him, or coming home at all. Kazuya was a bad texter by all means, so staring at his phone he would keep repeatedly looking at the message, not realizing it was a cry of help from the pitcher. He didn’t see anything that wrong with not replying right away, he was a busy guy after all. Plus, Sawamura Eijun was like, frantically ignoring him and it was kind of getting on his nerves. Kazuya, if anything, did not appreciate being ignored on purpose. Though he supposes that’s kind of a hypocritical thought, it was different though. It was different when Sawamura simply just didn’t understand the conversation at hand, afterall the only room in Sawamura’s brain was for baseball and pitching - nothing else. That’s why he knew, from the very start, that there was no way the pitcher would ever have the same fluttering sensation in his chest. Simply put, Sawamura didn’t feel the same way. There was no way he could, so staring at the text, he pursed his lips. 

Miyuki Kazuya 10:35 pm:

I don’t see how, but okay. Also shouldn’t you be asleep by now? 

Kazuya would press send, plug his phone in, and plop down into the lower bunk. He’d roll to face the wall, glaring at it more like. He wasn’t sure why he was mad to begin with, maybe it had to do with the fact every time he tried to call for the pitcher, the pitcher was always seen flapping around someone else. It made a possessive side of him, one that he didn’t even know he had, angry. Angry wasn’t the right word, it actually felt more painful in his chest than anything - but Kazuya was bad with emotions, he was bad with conveying how he felt, showing that he cared, he was just bad at all those types of emotional turmoil and baggage. So instead, he chose to shut them down. He’d cut off those things before they’d even start to sprout, he’d ensure that no one would know how he was  _ really  _ feeling, it would take a lot to penetrate that defensive shroud that Miyuki Kazuya had no qualms hiding himself inside. 

Yet, Sawamura Eijun was impossible to ignore. He was like the sun, so bright and in your face, that ignoring it would be like trying to ignore water when you’re thirsty - it will nag at you until eventually you cave. But suddenly, like the sun disappeared, the earth had nothing to rotate. In this case, Kazuya didn’t realize how much he rotated around the gravitational pull of Sawamura Eijun, how golden eyes made from the stars themselves were so impossible to deny or ignore. Kazuya was behaving like a kicked puppy. He would glare only harder at the wall as more and more intrusive thoughts would swim around his mind like a bundle of fish desperate to get away from a predator, and finally, he would sit up. Thump. He’d throw his pillow across the room, not sure why entirely, but out of a fit of hurt for sure, and before long the tears he’d been choking back since the moment he realized of Sawamura’s quest to ignore him gushed free. They dripped from his chin straight down, and he sobbed. He sobbed as mucus would bubble out of his nose, he was a disgusting crier, most people were - most humans’ were. He would, without a pillow, fall asleep crying just like after he attended his mother’s funeral. 

Kazuya, admittedly, was in love with someone too far to reach. 

The morning after, he’d have three text messages. 

Eijun 6:44 am: 

_ Image  _

Look how pretty my family’s farm is! I bet ur jealous shitzuya. 

Eijun 7:20 am 

There was a stink bug I accidentally stepped on and now it’s all over my shoe, it makes me think of u tho, u get too close and it ASSAULTS you.    
  


“Assaults…?” Kazuya grumbled, squinting without any glasses on. His eyes fell on the first message, an image. It was beautiful, sunflowers towering all too high, glistening in the pink sunrise, how droplets of fresh water dripped. It was amazing, how was there any sunflowers’ in winter to begin with? Kazuya had no idea, all he knew was that his chest tightened when his eyes landed on the southpaw. The picture was in selfie style, Eijun taking up the right side of the screen, holding up a peace sign with his right hand, an all too wide smile with his eyes close in happy little slits. His hair was still disheveled, how normal though. This would be perhaps the first time in Kazuya’s life that he would reply upon reading a message from someone. 

Miyuki Kazuya 9:15 am: 

I am not a stink bug. 

There was no need to get up on time or early, since practice was canceled for winter break. The only thing that remained was breakfast, and upon entering the cafeteria he was surprised to find trays already filled with food, wrapped with practice. Rice, cooked salmon, and miso soup. There would be a spoon inside the tray for the soup, and packaged chapsticks next to each tray of food. Kazuya would casually pluck one up, the cafeteria was empty aside from him, so he sat at a random table, unwrapped his food, and began slowly eating and chewing it. It was good, to be fair, the food at seidou wasn’t really that bad. The school had a lot of freedom regularly. 

The next person to stumble into the kitchen was Furuya Satoru. Which would shock Kazuya, admittedly, since Furuya seemed rather close with his grandpa. Furuya was quite the loner though, upon obtaining his own tray, he’d sit as far away as he possibly could from Kazuya - when baseball wasn’t around or a possibility, there was no real reason for them to talk was there? Kazuya supposes there was always the shed they could practice in, free from snow, but maybe Furuya was silently appreciative of a break. It also had been well known that Furuya like a penguin, and thrived in colder climates and temperatures. If it was constantly this cold, he’d be a much scarier pitcher than the normal pitcher - since he’d have a lot more stamina and energy. 

Kazuya felt his phone buzz hauntingly in his pocket, and upon fetching it out of his clothes, he was sure he made quite the face. 

Eijun 9:25 am: 

True, you are kinda stinkier.

Kazuya did not reply instantly, maybe because he was still bitter about the pitcher making it his job and task to ignore him. Maybe. Maybe it was because Kazuya didn’t like the way his heart fumbled around in his chest upon receiving a message from his favorite southpaw, maybe it was because he knew deep down - his feelings were unrequited. He thought back to sobbing in his room alone, harder than he was known to normally, small things - especially involving romantic interests - rarely got to him. Furuya had plopped down next to Kazuya, and the catcher hadn’t even seen him move. 

“Are you okay, Miyuki-senpai? You look upset.” Furuya wasn’t that talkative all the time, but Kazuya guesses he does care a little bit. 

Kazuya would not break his facade now, or ever.

“I’m fine.” He lied right through his teeth. “What a nice little kohai, caring about me~!” Kazuya would coo, which would earn him a scornful look from the ace. 

\---

  
  


Youichi was a great friend, at least that’s what the shortstop thought when he realized Sawamura Eijun would make a weird face anytime Miyuki Kazuya tried to get close to him - the sudden change happened about a week and three days ago. Kuramochi only went home for a couple days, the winter break was a solide two weeks - so there was still quite a big chunk of it left. He had plans to practice in the shed with one of the baseball machines, he had to practice his swings if he wanted to make it in Seidou afterall. That to the side though, his mind found itself constantly full of thoughts of his two idiotic teammates. Why on Earth was Sawamura ignoring Miyuki? And why did Miyuki just let it happen? If it was Kuramochi, he’d beat the answer out of the southpaw.

So upon returning back to Seidou at noon, he found himself trudging through the snow and pushing himself into his dorm room as fast as he could. Wow, the snow had certainly piled up, the air tasted like a nickel, and frost clung to the windows and metal railing. Kuramochi had half the mind to kick his shoes off at the front of the door as to not track snow around his dorm room, the carpet may have been shaggy, old, and  _ teal,  _ but that didn’t mean he wanted to walk around barefoot stepping into white, soaked puddles. He unpacked what he took with him, using Sawmaura’s bunk as a sort of table whilst he did this, filling the hamper full of what was dirty. Once that task had been completed, he’d waltz back to the door, slip his old, black boots on, and waddle his way to the laundry room. 

There was more than one washer and dryer, afterall, Seidou had like 90 people on its team. It would be quite the pile up if they didn’t at least have  _ two  _ washers and dryers. Luckily for all of Seidou, they had six in total of each. So that’s why seeing Miyuki tucked on a bench in the back reading some old novel didn’t really surprise Youichi that much, it did surprise Miyuki though. 

“Back already?” Miyuki looked up from his book, taking his thumb and pushing his glasses back up his nose. 

Youichi simply shrugged. 

“I need to hit something or I’ll end up beating you like a baseball.” Youichi, once setting down his hamper, made the motion of swinging a bat, placing a hand to his forehead as if to watch Miyuki fly away. This only lasted so long, before Youichi went about his business, opening the washer to place his clothes in it. 

“So hey, listen, are you an’ Sawamura… like…” Youichi trailed, looking up at the ceiling as if the answers to his questions were there. He paused for a few more seconds, searching his mental bank for the right words, before finally. “Like, fightin’ or somethin’?” He queried, jamming a pair of his pants into the mouth of the washing machine. 

“Fighting?” Youichi noticed that he had Miyuki’s attention now, by the way the catcher pushed a bookmark into his novel, and placed it to his right. “Why? Did he say something?” Kazuya practically demanded, like he was desperate to know if he did something wrong. This would earn him a raised eyebrow from Youichi. 

“No, not really. Not to me anyway. Just the way you two are actin’, it’s kinda… Off Putting.” Youichi finished jamming his random dirtied clothing into the washer, before heading off to grab some soap from one of the cabinets lining the wall. He plucked out a tide pod shaped cleaner, definitely offbrand, and threw it into the washer. He turned the dial, pulled it out, and water began ascending all over his clothes. He shut the lid to the washer, turning back to Miyuki to lean against it. Youichi found a comfortable position in crossing his arms. 

“What do you mean?” Miyuki leaned forward, narrowing his eyes slightly. Youichi practically gleamed. This was the first time he ever had Miyuki’s attention so full heartedly, and he couldn’t help but feel slightly powerful, for once in his life he had the upper hand against his formidable foe and ally, Miyuki Kazuya. 

“Did you do somethin’ to make him mad?” That’s what Youichi had already predetermined, just because it was hard to make Sawamura Eijun ignore you. It wasn’t like the pitcher to so easily ignore someone, let alone a  _ catcher.  _ In fact, Sawamura could be kind of a slave driver, constantly begging for Miyuki to catch his pitches, if Miyuki wouldn’t then he’d go to Okumara. Which slightly bugged Miyuki, though he’d never verbally admit something so crass out loud. 

“No, he’s just randomly ignoring me now.” Miyuki would let out the longest sigh Youichi had ever heard from the catcher in his life, the bespectacled man would throw his hands up, lean back, and pout ever so slightly. 

“Why don’t you just ask him why?” Youichi innocently inquired, digging through his pocket to fish out a granola bar he stole from his home, unwrapping it and pressing the end of it into his mouth, to rip some off and chew.

Miyuki looked at Youichi like the man had said some cursed, taboo thing that would certainly bring about meteorites to their exact location and kill them both off instantly. 

“I don’t know, maybe because you don’t ask people those things.” Miyuki unhelpfully responded, scratching at his cheek. His expression had returned stoic as Miyuki dodged further questions by changing the topic. “My dad used to buy those,” he’d point a finger to the bar in Youichi’s hands, “are they any good?” 

“Good enough.” Youichi would allow Miyuki to dodge just this once. 

It was at dinner, when the four students found themselves at the same table. Haruichi confessed he didn’t want to see his parents, since they could be a little overprotective, and Furuya said the trip to his hometown was expensive and his grandpa told him to just save his money instead, and that he’d come to see one of their games. Youichi explained that there really wasn’t a lot of room for him, that his house was kinda small and cramped a lot of the time. Miyuki made up some excuse about how as  _ captain  _ it wouldn’t befit him to leave Seidou, much like the captain of a ship would proclaim as it sinks down below. 

Miyuki was kind of like a sinking shimp, Youichi noted. 

They found joyous company within each other, light banter surrounding the table, and Youichi would pry ever so slightly when it came to the younger Kominato brother, trying to get whatever he could out of Haruichi concerning Ryousuke. But Haruichi had apparently lost contact with Ryou after university rolled around, sure he had his number, but the two had a rivalry so they rarely talked - aside from family concerned matters. 

Once dinner had concluded, and the students each parted to their own separate rooms, Youichi found himself stopping Miyuki one more time. 

“Can you just ask him if he has something on his mind? Stop bein’ such a hardass.” Youichi would lift his leg high and mighty, and smash it, gently with no real malice, into Miyuki’s behind. This would earn him quite the look of annoyance from the catcher. 

Miyuki would roll his eyes, much like a spoiled preteen, and head up the railing to his room without saying much. Youichi, without Miyuki knowing, would have sent a concerned look in his general direction. 

These two idiots were worth a lot more trouble than they had any right being. 

\---

It’s alone in the bathroom at home where Eijun finds himself the most lonely. His eyes won't leave his phone, he keeps checking it once - twice - thrice, no further inquisition or messages. Not even a goodnight message. Something about that painfully twists his gut. He tries washing his face, maybe he just needs some good beauty care to feel better! 

Eijun’s mind won’t stop assaulting him with the image of Miyuki’s receding back. The feelings really weren’t mutual, and Eijun felt dumb for thinking that they were. They shared so many special moments that seemed to make it feel like they were. Like that one time Miyuki, so out of character, leaned down to tie Sawmaura’s shoe. Or that time when Miyuki launched an all too grabby hand out at Sawamura’s wrist, ensuring no real damage had been done, looking at his nails and getting on the pitcher’s case about wearing the right nail polish. 

The sixth time Eijun checks his phone, he realizes he’s been in the bathroom for thirty minutes, and upon looking in the mirror, he realizes just how heartbroken he looks. It’s then, when it's like someone is jamming cotton down his throat, does his voice crack so slightly in a soft yowl. The tears force themselves out of his eyes like rain from clouds, and he collapses so painfully in on himself, the tears burn his face like acid, and he’s crumpling, on his knees, holding his face in his eyes and he whisper cries, illuminated only by the one, old bathroom light overhead. Sniveling and whimpering into his cupped hands, he knows for certain, he shouldn’t have listened to his heart. He knew the feelings aren't mutual deep down, he knew that, and yet he still chose to ignore them. Still chose to pester Miyuki like a mosquito drawn to blood, constantly vying for the attention - constantly. C o n s t a n t l y. Eijun was never the brightest, so into his own hands he had no one to blame but himself. His mind preoccupied with images of arrogant smiles and half hearted praises. He knew that Miyuki was only praising him so that way Sawamura would shine brighter on the mound, so that Sawamura would bring them all to nationals - he felt used. 

“I’m.. such an idiot…” Sawamura would whimper into his hands, desperately wiping at his eyes, trying to get the tears to stop overflowing like a clogged sink. He couldn’t help it, he felt so helpless - he felt so much, he knew from that moment forward, he’d be unable to look at Miyuki the same. He’d only see a bastard, an evil one, with discreet and brooding intentions. 

Sawamura hated himself in that moment too, for being so moronic. 

\---

Kazuya clicked his phone off, tossing it onto his bed. He must have rewritten like nine hundred replies at this point, but none of them seemed worth sending. So instead, he opened the mathematical guide for his entrance exams into the university of his choice, making notes in his notebook as he studied. If he couldn’t play baseball, he could at least ensure that his grades wouldn’t be too horrendous. Afterall, the baseball scholarship was only provided to the students’ that could keep their grades at least average. The hours inched by slowly, grueling, and Kazuya soon leaned back stretching limbs with a crack. He thought back to Kuramochi, on the stairwell. 

“Talk to him…” Kazuya burbled only to himself, in a room too empty, illuminated by the lamp next to his desk. He craved coffee, so that’s where his next conquest was. Shuffling on a pair of sneakers - he never bought boots since he’d assumed it would never snow in Tokyo, not this bad anyway, and faced the biting cold. He stumbled through the snow that had piled up outside of his room, and found himself, as carefully as he could, descending ice covered stairs. One hand shaking as it held onto the freezing, metallic railing next to him. Kazuya would reach the vending machine, pushing forth the required payment for the coffee of his desires, obtaining the  _ shockingly cold  _ drink from the flap of the automat, he’d resume his goal, his ascent of the ice stairs. 

Having coffee really didn’t make his focus any better, despite wishing it would have. Finally Kazuya snatched up his phone, opened his texts between him and his pitcher, and typed out the best reply he could manage. 

Miyuki Kazuya 1:15 pm: 

How’s Nagano? 

If anything, Kazuya could at least be curious about Sawmaura’s home town. He’d get better at these things later, for now this was the best he could muster. It was uncomfortable for him to face feelings, to show interest, and not have to reel in on himself, protecting all that he was from aggressive onlookers and scouters - obviously, his teammate would not be out to get him, but he couldn’t always, necessarily ignore the tugging sensation in his chest. It was painful sometimes, and made him feel somewhat nauseated, that would be his unattended anxieties though. Something that coffee only made much worse, though he couldn’t curve the addiction, luckily it wasn’t something like a hard drug - that would be a lot worse, he’d end up like his father, an alcoholic curled in on himself and content that way. 

Disgusting. 

Like the two weeks, the snow melted away slowly, in a spring-y haze, and before long the students were making their rounds, pouring life back into the school and the baseball team. Sawamura Eijun would be greeted back pleasantly by everyone except Kazuya. Sawamura never replied to his text, and all that did was fuel some kind of anger produced by hurt. The feelings really were not mutual, not at all. Living with that would be the hardest part, but at least he had the comfort in knowing the year would be coming to an end very soon, and he’d never have to face Sawamura “ignoring me” Eijun again. 

A mock baseball game is brought to life due to recent events, and Seidou is fighting a nearby tokyo school. Sawamura is the opening pitcher, and Kazuya, of course, is the opening catcher. Both refuse to look at eachother, but now that Sawamura is on the mound, those fire eyes are forced to gaze into dark chocolate ones. Their chemistry, felt by the entire team of Seidou, is completely askew and off. 

Each pitch Sawamura throws is horrendous, admittedly, and Miyuki can barely focus on the game, by the end, their defeat is prominent, and both Miyuki and Sawamura are called off the field. The coaches chalk it up the two weeks the battery spent apart, but of course Kuramochi knows the exact reason why. Sawamura is petty and has hurt feelings, and Miyuki is useless when it comes to confronting issues, at this rate, they won’t ever talk it out, and it will really be the end of Seidou’s power battery. 

\---

Youichi can’t take it anymore, knowing too much is quite literally killing him off, he might really cease to exist if he doesn’t confront at least one of the idiot’s. He chooses Miyuki, since sharing a room with Sawamura would make a skirmish between the two uncomfortable. He also doesn’t like to necessarily see Sawamura all that sad, so instead… 

Youichi barges into Miyuki’s room, the catcher is currently hovering over his phone looking like a distressed teenage girl, worry lacing his eyes as he taps at his phone. Upon the intrusion however, the split second where Miyuki was actually showing something aside from a  _ cunning smug bastard  _ disappears near instantaneous. 

“Can I help you?” Miyuki drawls, narrowing his eyes like the task at hand was particularly for his eyes only, Youichi usually would pry, or beat it out of someone - he’s curious in nature and can’t handle secrets, never could. Something about knowing something about other people just eats him up inside, so instead of that, he tries to turn a blind eye to everything. Unfortunately, he’s naturally an empathetic person, so instead of being able to ignore his teammates’ troubles and focus exclusively on baseball, he’s found himself at the heart of someone’s problems. 

Youichi was really, honestly, planning to talk this out like two adults. 

Instead, in teenage adolescent anger, he marches over, plucks Miyuki Kazuya up like a ragdoll, and shakes him about like a pillow needing a good fluffing. 

“Are you Sawamura now?!” Miyuki callsout, distressed in the way he is currently being manhandled. 

“No, but you need to talk to him!” Youichi demands. “I have to SLEEP with that bastard! Do you know how hard it is trying to sleep above a crybaby?! It’s HARD!!! IT’S HARD!” Youichi practically whimpers at full volume, still shaking Miyuki about, before dropping him back onto the solid ground, pointing an accusative finger right in his face. “Whatever you did to him, you fix it right now!” 

After that intrusion, Youichi evacuates the room, slams the door shut behind him, and grumbles to himself about how much work the two morons’ are shaping up to be. Youichi is sure he has a few extra gray hairs, and fifty five percent less life span than previously. It’s true though, sleeping a bunk above someone who can’t stop whimpering and sobering into their pillow is quite annoying. Not really annoying, that’s not the right word, the correct word is worrying - though Youichi would never directly admit he was worried, especially not to Miyuki or Sawamura. Though as he purses his lips, he’s one to speculate a lot about their relationship, his assumption is it’s just one big misunderstanding that they need to address head on, Youichi’s done practically all he can. 

—-

Kazuya resumes pouting about their loss, if only Sawamura had pitched like he instructed then they wouldn’t have lost, but that’s not necessarily fair to Sawamura is it. Really the problem with Kazuya was the lack of a response, the complete ignorance, the pouting expressions the pitcher casts towards Kazuya anytime the pitcher gets near him. 

So, simply put, he doesn’t. 

Kazuya just doesn’t get near him or try, but after the intrusion from Kuramochi demanding he speak to him, he knows he’s left with little choice - or face the wrath of the shortstop’s new wrestling moves. 

So, he sends Sawamura a text. 

Miyuki Kazuya 10:22 pm: 

Meet me at the vending machine, I need to talk to you. It’s important. 

So out there he waits, wearing a hoodie to protect himself from the occasional chilling gust of wind. He waits about ten minutes, and as he’s about to go inside, he sees none other than Sawamura Eijun timidly approach him. The pitcher is also dressed in a hoodie, his hands tucked into his pockets, his eyes trained on the ground below them. 

“Why are you ignoring me?” Kazuya blurts out without much forethought, he’s usually not very honest especially with his feelings, but for once he can’t really help himself, the thumping of his heart is so loud in his ribs he’s almost half surprised the pitcher can’t hear the loud hammering. 

“I’m not… not.. really…!” Sawamura defends, lifting his hands up in a more defensive manner than besuits him. “I’m just…” The southpaw trials, jutting his bottom lip out in his signature pout. 

“You are.” Kazuya reprimands, licking his lips to apply more moisture. “Look, I’m sorry for whatever I did that upset you. Can we just try to get along?” 

“Upset me?” Sawamura spoke softly in the darkness, but before long he was making bold eye contact with the object of his personal turmoil and suffrage. The familiar constriction sensation bubbles within his chest, forcing him on the verge of tears before he’s even said anything and- They come out like hot spring geysers. Unpredictable, yet hot and steamy, they roll down his cheeks, and his bottom lip quakes in a way that’s near pitiful and reminiscent of a young child losing its toy. 

“Are you okay?” Kazuya reaches a hand forward to try and lightly touch Sawamura’s shoulder, he usually doesn’t like touching people but in a case like this he knows he really doesn’t have much of a choice. But Sawamura reels back, as if his touch might burn him - which is quite strange, considering Sawamura is the one with the eyes of the sun. 

“I’m fine…! I’m really…” Sawamura starts to cry harder, lifting tanned hands to desperately hide his face away, silently begging his tears to stop as he panically wipes at his eyes and nose, willing them to stop - needing them to stop because at this rate, at this rate everything he’s been working so hard to protect will come pouring out and - 

Kazuya doesn’t really know what to do, he knows this is his fault, he knows he must’ve done something really bad for the pitcher to be blubbering before him like this. So he walks forward, and wraps his arms carefully around Sawamura, and pulls him in for a hug. The southpaw doesn’t fight it for once, just allows the physical attention of Kazuya, and this causes the junior to wrack harder with sobs, shaking within the warm embrace of the elder. 

“I’m sorry.” Is all Kazuya murmurs into the brown hair of Sawamura, he knows the younger is probably staining his hoodie with snot and tears but he can’t really find himself to be bothered by it. “I’m sorry for whatever I did.” 

“Why… why… do you… why do you always…” Sawamura is choked up and admittedly hard to understand, between gasps for air and shaky sobs, included by the words being muffled by Kazuya’s hoodie, he has to pull back to get a good look at the pitcher to try and understand him. 

“Why do you always act so cold and distant!” Eijun finally shouts, throwing his hands up in a signal of defeat. “I love you! I know I shouldn’t! But I can’t help… I…” and once more, the bitter sobbing resumes, and it’s really a lot, emotionally and physically, and Eijun sort of crouches down in astonished defeat. He puts his face in his hands, and practically sobs louder than a two year old in public. Kazuya has no idea how to go about this, so he sort of looks around to make sure no one is near and - 

“I love you too, please stop crying.” Kazuya begs, crouching down to sort of awkwardly try and guess the proper way to console and comfort someone in such emotional distress. He settles on sort of awkwardly patting the southpaw’s head, running his fingers through strands of brown. 

The younger, after a good twenty or so minutes, crumpled next to the vending machine, finally stops sobbing. He sniffs loudly, snot and tears staining his face in a disgusting array, and Kazuya has half the heart to help the other up and lead the pitcher to the bathrooms. There, Kazuya sort of waits outside for Eijun to clean his face up, so it’s not so awkward - the pitcher, at the start of his breakdown, could be seen trying really hard not to have it to begin with. 

Kazuya would mentally kick himself for being so fucking useless. He finds himself glaring at a pebble in front of him, as if it was some repeat offender of Kazuya’s feelings. Finally, after maybe a couple minutes at most, Sawamura reamurges from the bathroom. His eyes are red and puffy, and his cheeks are flushed, but aside from that he’s still the same pitcher. 

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” Kazuya starts before the pitcher can say anything, “I’m sorry you felt that way. The truth is, I’m really bad at expressing my feelings and coming head on towards these things. I don’t do anything romantic, I’ve liked you for a while I just… didn’t know how to handle it so I shut it down. I’m sorry you felt like… I was purposefully not replying. That’s another thing, I’m really bad at responding to texts, that’s a me thing not a you thing.” Kazuya lifted a hand too softly make a motion before pushing it into his hair to slick it back, but without any gel it simply fell back into its predetermined position. 

“I’m sorry too, I ignored you on purpose.” Eijun confessed, not like he needed to considering everything. Kazuya had already found that conclusion by himself. But he simply smiled, gave Eijun his best attempt at a shoulder pat and- 

“Well, how was Nagano then?” 

Eijun visibly bristled at the sudden physical and emotional attention. 

“It was fun, my family runs a farm - we specialize in oranges!” Eijun would flash a bright and toothy smile, flicking a quick thumbs up. 

“That’s nice.” Kazuya would give Eijun his own smile, though nowhere near as obnoxiously bright, it still had its own charm. It was also a lot softer of a smile than he spared for anyone else, the truth is, Kazuya really has a thing for Eijun. He has it bad. 

They found purchase on the bench next to the vending machine, and they talked. They discussed their feelings, they discussed Nagano, their dreams and aspirations - their hopes, their comfort with one another - their affections. They found solace there, at Seidou on this bench, and as Kuramochi realized at 1 am Sawamura was missing, he’d go searching only to find his eyes widening in surprise. 

There, in the glow of the automat and the moon above, their lips were pressed together, eyes closed in a kiss - their lips melded together near perfectly, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Kuramochi reminisced about the past, where about a year prior, he and Ryousuke did the same thing, kissed, right under the moon. 

Kuramochi grinned, from ear to ear then, returning to his room, and for the first time in what felt like a very long eternity, he fell asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u for reading


End file.
